Entwined
by Kittenshift17
Summary: *ONE-SHOT* "Come over here and make me!" Hermione dared Thorfinn Rowle, refusing to utter a word in answer to his question. She might be his prisoner, but that didn't mean she had to bend to his will.


**A/N: Sparked by an anonymous Ask on Tumblr requesting a drabble for Number 29 in The 150 Drabble Asks.**

 **xx-Kitten.**

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 **Entwined**

 _By Kittenshift17_

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"Come here, Princess," Thorfinn Rowle invited the curly-haired witch as they squared off in the coffee shop, their wands drawn, their faces serious. "Be a good little witch and come quietly, yeah? You're only going to get hurt."

Granger's reply was a nasty stinging jinx that he just barely managed to block.

"I said, come here, Granger!" Thorfinn growled, ignoring the two companions with her as they fiercely dueled Dolohov deeper inside the shop.

"Eat slugs, Rowle!" she hissed he reply, firing another spell at him, this one a nasty slug-vomiting hex that he had to dive to his left to avoid. Thorfinn winced when it whizzed right by him and collided with Antonin, throwing him off balance.

"You little bitch," Thorfinn snarled, rapidly losing his temper.

Firing off three rapid-fire curses of his own, he gave up on trying to out-hex her when she blocked the first two and dodged the third. Maintaining a shield charm, Thorfinn charged her. She wasn't expecting him to get physical. That much was clear when she landed heavily on the floor of the coffee shop beneath his weight, the wind knocked out of her and her wand skittering away across the linoleum. Thorfinn summoned it quickly before Disapparating with a resounding crack, much to the horror of the witch in his arms and the companion left in their wake.

Not thinking clearly in his anger, Thorfinn apparated her to the first place he could think of. His bedroom in Rowle Tower. Granger huffed underneath him when they landed in a heap on the middle of his unmade bed.

"Shit," Thorfinn muttered, levering himself up and off her quickly, peering down at her and noting that she must've hit her head on the coffee shop floor.

She was unconscious and Thorfinn scowled, rolling off her quickly and flipping her over so he could get a look at the damage to her head. Other that a small goose-egg, she seemed ok, but he wasn't sure he trusted the bitch not to be faking. Pinching her arm harshly, he was satisfied she was completely out when she didn't flinch or cry out, or even screw up her face at the pain.

"Got you now, Princess," he smirked to himself, using his wand to bind her hands quickly.

Of course, now that he had her, he didn't know what to do with her. Their orders had been to bring Potter to the Dark Lord. Thorfinn could just imagine the horrid things the Dark Lord would ask him and his fellow Death Eaters to do to the little witch if he brought her before him now.

Securing her hands to his bedpost, Thorfinn stood beside the bed and frowned down at the witch. He hadn't seen her in months. Not since the night atop the Astronomy Tower when he'd accompanied Bellatrix and the others to murder Dumbledore. She'd been in her pyjamas then, scared but determined to do what little she thought she could to protect the school and to save her friends.

She looked different now. It was clear the war had been weighing on her. She'd lost weight. Her hair was all in a mess, despite the fact that he _knew_ she'd been at a wedding earlier that very evening. The clothes she wore were snug, scuffed as though she'd changed into the quickly; as though she hadn't worn them in a long time before now.

What was he supposed to do with her now? Thorfinn wondered idly. Now that he had her, he could think of any number of things he'd _like_ to do to her, but he doubted she'd be on board with any of them. She wasn't particularly fond of him, these days. He snorted. Who was he kidding? She'd never been fond of him.

"Wake up, Princess," he commanded, flicking a Reviving spell at her when he grew tired of his own panicky thoughts in her presence without her snark and her sass to distract him.

She groaned softly, waking slowly as though rising from the deepest depths of unconsciousness and Thorfinn wondered how badly she'd hit her head.

"You alive, Princess?" he drawled, pocketing both of their wands and eyeing her critically, standing at the end of his bed.

She gasped, her cinnamon eyes popping wide when she realized she'd been captured, and she scrambled up the bed away from him, realizing quickly that her hands were bound and that her wand was gone.

"Let me go, Rowle," she demanded, her eyes snapping to his face after a quick sweep of the room to determine that they were alone.

"Nah," Thorfinn shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest and watching her intently.

"Yes," she insisted. "Now. Or so help me, I'll..."

Thorfinn's mouth twitched into a sly grin when she trailed off, clearly realizing she was entirely at his mercy and that without her wand, while her hands were bound, any threat she made would be an empty one.

"Yeah," Thorfinn chuckled. "I thought you'd say that. Got you all to myself now, Princess, and all you've got is that wicked tongue of yours for your own defense. So... How's tricks, eh?"

"Tricks?" she narrowed her eyes. "For Merlin's sake, Rowle! Let me go. You can't keep me here forever, you know. I'm going to escape, in time."

"Aye, that you might," he nodded. "But I reckon you and me could have a whole lot of fun before you do, eh? So, stop being a rude little bitch and answer my question."

She narrowed her eyes on him hatefully and Thorfinn narrowed his in return.

"Why don't you come over here and make me, Thorfinn?" she hissed, throwing down the gauntlet in challenge.

It would be her worst mistake. And for a witch so unaccustomed to making them, he suspected she wasn't going to handle that fact too well.

She screamed when he lunged at her, knocking aside the leg she tried to kick him with and moving until he pinned her to the bed. She fought wildly, pulling against her bindings and trying to kick him. He yanked her legs straight by a tight grip on her ankles and planted himself on top of her, pinning her body to the mattress with his own much large one.

"You ought to be a bit more careful about the things you say, Princess," Thorfinn smirked. "You're not a smart-mouthed ickle firstie anymore, you know?"

"Get off me!" she hissed, her eyes flashing dangerously as sparks of bright purple magic began crackling through her curls.

"Who's going to make me?" Thorfinn taunted. "You're at my mercy, little witch."

"Rowle," she began, and Thorfinn could tell that for all her bravado, she was afraid.

"Princess," he repeated in the same tone.

She gulped, desperately wriggling beneath him, clearly wanting to be set loose.

"What are you going to do?" she asked fearfully when it became clear that the only way she was getting out of this was by cooperating.

"Wait for you to answer my question," Thorfinn shrugged.

"What question?" she asked.

"How're tricks?" he asked.

"You kidnapped me just to ask me how I'm doing?" she asked.

He shrugged his shoulders, waiting.

"I'm… f… scared," she admitted truthfully, and he could tell that she'd intended to answer the same way everyone tended to. The word 'fine' had been on her lips before she realized that she'd be wasting her time lying and that he'd just push her for the real answer. "And my head hurts."

"Mmmm, you hit it when I tackled you," he nodded. "There's a lump, but no blood."

She frowned into his face.

"Anything else?" she asked when he didn't say anything additional.

Thorfinn shrugged.

"Been a long time, eh?" he asked, one corner of his mouth pulling up in a crooked grin.

"Not long enough," she disagreed. "The Astronomy Tower, remember? You hexed me."

She twisted under him a little and nodded down the length of her body indicatively and Thorfinn frowned. He didn't remember hexing her.

"I remember snogging you," he disagreed.

She scowled in return.

"You burned me," she argued and Thorfinn pulled back further from her, lifting off her enough to pull up her shirt. She made a small noise like she didn't appreciate the intrusion, before rolling a little under him, letting him see a scar on the middle of her back in the perfect imprint of his handprint. It was shiny and pink. A burn.

Thorfinn pressed his hand over it curiously, noting that it fit perfectly.

"There's another to match on the back of my neck," she told him, twisting her head to show him.

Thorfinn recalled holding her in both places when he'd latched onto her and snogged her stupid against one of the walls in seventh floor corridors. He hadn't been able to help himself. Everything about her had provoked him and taunted him and enticed him for years. When she'd been just an ickle firstie, two years below him, she'd given him nothing but grief at every turn. As they'd aged the smart-mouth remarks had turned sassier, and Thorfinn would admit to flirting with her on numerous occasions.

"Mementos of the sexual tension sizzling between us," Thorfinn grinned at her, aligning his hands over both marks as he gripped her and flipped the two of the until she was sprawled across his chest, rather than pinned beneath him.

"Battle wounds," she disagreed. "You took the Dark Mark, Rowle. There is no sexual tension. Not anymore."

Thorfinn's blue eyes traced over her face carefully, noting that she looked deadly serious, but knowing her well enough to know that no matter how badly she wanted the words to be true, they were still a lie.

"There'll be sexual tension between us until we're both crotchety old fart, Princess," Thorfinn informed her smugly.

"There won't," she shook her head vehemently.

Thorfinn rolled his eyes. When she didn't say anything else, and didn't bother wriggling, clearly knowing she wasn't going anywhere until he was good and done with her, Thorfinn traced his eyes over her carefully, drinking in the sight of her and unable to help noticing that she was only growing prettier with age.

"You look tired," he told her instead, still holding her snugly against his chest.

"Gee, thanks," she rolled her eyes.

"You've been worrying yourself," Thorfinn surmised.

"Can't imagine why," she sneered sarcastically. "And you, Rowle? Proudly wearing the brand of the monster who wants to wipe people like me from the face of the earth. Does he know you've captured me? Does he know you seem to fancy kissing me whenever you can manage it?"

"'Course he doesn't," Thorfinn grunted. "Not that he'd have much to say on the matter, other than to sneer. We all have our vices, you know?"

"And I'm yours, apparently," Hermione said. "What are you planning to do with me now that you've kidnapped me, Rowle?"

"Dunno," he confessed. "We were sent after Potter."

"You realize that if you take me to him, he'll…"

"Give you to the brethren of Death Eaters for sport?" he suggested when she trailed off fearfully. "Yeah, I know."

"So, then, what are you going to do?" she asked.

Thorfinn sighed, tracing his eyes over her face.

"Maybe I'll keep you," he suggested quietly. "I can protect you here. Certainly, better than Potter can."

"I'm not staying, Rowle," Granger shook her head and Thorfinn frowned at her.

"Because of my Dark Mark?" he guessed.

"Among other things," she sniffed.

"Why?" he asked. "Even with the brand, you still want me, baby-girl. I know you do."

"I don't," she denied. "I never did."

Thorfinn raised one eyebrow at her doubtfully.

"Liar," he accused before flipping the two of them across the mattress once more.

When he had her pinned beneath him, Thorfinn lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her tentatively, wondering what she would do. The last time he'd kissed her, he'd pushed the kiss on her hungrily, overcome with how badly he wanted her when he'd laid eyes on her that night on the Astronomy Tower. Merlin, he had it bad for this witch. He hadn't known how bad until that moment but lying there with her in his bed and pinned under him, her mouth pliant beneath his own before her tongue struck out to spar with his, Thorfinn knew he'd always have it bad for her.

She kissed him back greedily, her mouth moving with his, her tongue smoothing along his own, her hands - bound as they were – pulling at the bindings until she could tangle her fingers into his golden mane of blond hair. Her legs curled around his waist slowly, tightening the longer he kissed her and Thorfinn rolled his hips slowly, grinding against her hungrily and wondering whether she might finally let him have her.

Without thinking he broke their kiss to unbind her hands, intent on getting her naked and making her his witch forevermore. She didn't fight him off when he lifted off her enough to pull her shirt off over her head. Instead, she reached for the hem of his own, tugging it up and off him and Thorfinn took great satisfaction when he listened to the way her breath caught as she traced those eyes over his muscled torso greedily.

"Oh, yeah," he teased lightly. "You don't want me at all, huh, Princess?"

Her cheeks flushed pink and Thorfinn grinned, leaning down to steal another kiss from her. She reached for him greedily, her hands trailing over the bare expanse of his back, her nails digging into him hungrily as she kissed him back and rocked her hips, desperate for friction. Thorfinn was so intent on giving it; on devouring her; on finally claiming the woman he'd fancied for sodding years, that he almost jumped out of his skin when his bedroom door was flung open to admit an angry Russian.

"For fuck's sake!" Antonin Dolohov growled before vomiting up a slug into a bucket he was clutching.

Thorfinn froze, breaking the kiss with Hermione to turn and glare at the bastard for daring to invade his home, let alone his room. Granger's hand slid all the way down his back and too late he realized her intent.

"NO!" he shouted just as she seized on her wand where he'd shoved it in his back pocket.

She smirked evilly from beneath him before disapparating with a resounding crack, leaving him to slump into the gap she'd left, crushing his throbbing boner against the mattress.

"Bloody hell, Toshka! Did you have to!?" Thorfinn snarled, his fists clenching in the sheets and beginning to smoke as his temper roared to life like a raging inferno.

"You can't fuck a mudblood, _ditya_ ," the elder wizard growled, referring to him as 'son' as he'd done since the minute Thorfinn had approached him following Dolohov's escape from Azkaban.

"As though you've never fucked one?" Thorfinn challenged his godfather.

Antonin flicked his fingers dismissively. "Never Potter's mudblood. Never the one witch the Dark Lord would kill to get his hands on. If he learns you had her and let her slip through your fingers…"

"He'd skin me alive, I know," Thorfinn growled.

Antonin eyed him for a long moment, spitting up another slug before shaking his head, disgusted.

"You are in love with her," he accused.

Thorfinn didn't bother denying it. Hell, sometimes he thought he was.

"I will be," Thorfinn grumbled, rolling to his back and trying to adjust the uncomfortable steel rod in his jeans. "Just as soon as I fuck my kid into her belly and can get a bloody ring on her finger."

" _Durachit'."_ Antonin accused, shaking his head and clucking his tongue disapprovingly. Thorfinn knew that one. It meant 'fool'. His godfather's favorite adjective to describe him. Sighing and closing his eyes, Thorfinn reached for the shirt he'd peeled off his witch before she escaped, lifting it and dropping it down on his face. As he laid there breathing in her sweet scent, he began to plot how next he might manage to capture and kiss her all over again.

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 **NOTE: If you like my writing, you might also enjoy my original fiction. Search for "PARANORMAL DIVISION: AWAKENING by Ellie J Duck" on Amazon, or follow the links on my profile to check it out.**


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